


a little stressed

by Prim_the_Amazing



Series: RVB Fluff Week [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: BUT IT DOESNT HAPPEN, M/M, rated teen bc grif tries to get laid for the entire fic, slight locus, sucker mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 07:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing
Summary: “I think Whisker has started eating our socks,” Simmons says, expression disturbed. “Whole.”Grif had been planning on doing or saying something to indicate that sexy times where coming in just a moment, but he’s not quite sure how to go from ‘the cat is eating our socks’ to ‘let me suck your dick babe’.-Simmons is stressed and Grif wants to sex it out of him. The universe fights him on this.





	a little stressed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CC_Writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes/gifts).



> Prompt: :D Grif or Simmons has been far too stressed out lately, the other person decides to do something about it. (hope my phrasing makes sense)

Grif is kind of morally opposed to workouts, seeing as he ends up running for his life often enough without adding a treadmill to the mix. But he has a bad habit of making exceptions for Simmons. And Simmons has been working himself up into a _tizzy_ lately.

It’s been a combination of things. Locus finally bit the bullet and moved in with them, and Simmons is still in an awkward scared-shitless place with him, although Grif’s sure they’ll start getting along any day now! But for now, Simmons acts like someone burst out from behind a corner wearing hyper realistic gore makeup whenever he walks in on Locus harmlessly sipping coffee in the kitchen in the morning.

And Donut got a cat. He named it Whiskers, put a bow on it, and now dotes on it constantly. It’s too bad that Donut’s precious darling’s favorite activity in the world is scratching all of their curtains to shreds and being not quite housebroken yet. Simmons is _not_ a fan.

Oh, and also Kai and Tucker got together, so now Simmons is constantly on edge because any time he enters a room he might be walking in on them having sex. Grif can reluctantly admit that he’s kind of in the same boat there. They would and probably _have_ had sex in the living room.

So, Simmons is tense. So, Grif wants to help his boyfriend relax, because he has to sleep next to that, and seeing Simmons relaxed has been one of his favorite sights for a long time now anyways.

So, Grif is gonna volunteer for a workout.

Bowchickabowwow.

  


“I think Whisker has started eating our socks,” Simmons says, expression disturbed. _“Whole.”_

Grif had been planning on doing or saying something to indicate that sexy times where coming in just a moment, but he’s not quite sure how to go from ‘the cat is eating our socks’ to ‘let me suck your dick babe’.

“I’m… sure he’s not.”

“He is, though! I can prove it, I just have to--”

“Listen, you can absolutely plan an elaborate trap to catch Whiskers in the act with Sarge tomorrow--”

“As if,” Simmons interrupts, looking massively aggrieved. “Sarge loves that damned thing.”

Grif wishes his boyfriend wasn’t blatantly jealous of a cat, but really, he knew what he was getting into when he started dating Simmons.

“Look,” he says, determined to try and steer the conversation somewhere else yet again.

There’s a loud bang from the other side of their wall. Simmons makes an undignified sound and nearly jumps off the bed they’re sitting on, and Grif is only spared from the same fate by accidentally biting his own tongue and freezing.

 _“What the fuck was that?”_ Simmons hisses.

Another bang.

“Grif,” Simmons says.

Another. It’s honestly kind of rhythmic.

“What,” Grif says.

“Tucker’s room is next to yours.”

“Yeah, alright we’re leaving.”

  


So, the kitchen kinda sorta maybe counts as being in public, and neither he nor Simmons loves the idea of being walked in on (as in they would _die),_ but they’re currently alone and Simmons is sipping at his cup coffee, no sources of stress around, and this is honestly the best opportunity Grif has had in a while now. He just has to flirt a little, and then drag Simmons into the nearest available closet…

“Want some sugar?” he asks, even though Simmons rarely is in the mood for it.

Simmons looks thoughtfully down at his coffee cup. His hands are slightly jittery, shaking the cup a bit if you looked closely. Grif makes a note to try and cut him off from more coffee.

“No,” Simmons says, and yeah that’s probably for the best. He does not need sugar on top of the caffeine overdose.

Grif is now planning on leaning in and saying something incredibly stupid like ‘how about some _sugar’,_ but then he is thwarted (or possibly saved) by bumping into empty space.

“What the fuck,” he says.

Locus guiltily decloaks. Simmons swallows his coffee down the wrong way and is sent into a vicious coughing fit.

“Locus, what the fuck,” he says.

“I was just… going to get myself a cup of coffee without disturbing you.”

Grif is at once overcome with amused fondness and exasperation. He’d almost seduced Simmons in front of Locus. He’s not sure how any of them would have ever recovered from that.

He looks at Simmons, who is still desperately coughing. Yeah, it looks like any possibility of seduction is over for the moment anyways.

“Dude, trust me, you weren’t disturbing anything,” he lies.

  


Grif’s got him in his clutches now. He tricked Locus into a training session with Wash and he’s too much of a weenie around him to beg off convincingly, and he paid Carolina in a bag of edibles to do the same to Tucker no matter how much he whines. No one is gonna bump into invisible Locus. Tucker isn’t gonna bump Kai, putting Grif entirely off his own intentions. Plus, he’s in Simmons’ bedroom. What sexier place is there to be than in one’s own safe, locked, private room? Nowhere in Simmons’ book, that’s for sure.

“What did you want to talk about?” Simmons asks, looking a little curious but not nervous. Good, you never know when the nerd might overthink something.

“You,” Grif answers. “And--”

_Meow._

Simmons stiffens. _“Grif.”_

He puts his face in his hands and groans. “I heard it too.”

“How did he get into my room!?” Simmons jumps up from his bed and starts wildly searching for the little bastard.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s no window! The door’s locked!” He’s tossing pillows off of his bed.

“Maybe we heard it through the walls?” he suggests hopefully.

“The walls aren’t _that_ thin!” He tears the mattress off of the bedframe and onto the floor. Grif sighs and looks at it despondently. “Where could he be--?”

_Meow._

They both look up and to the right of Simmons’ room. At the vent there.

“No,” Simmons says.

There’s another miserable echoing meow, unavoidably from the vents direction.

“He’s stuck in the vents,” Grif realizes.

 _“No,”_ Simmons repeats.

“And we’re gonna have to get him out of there or else Donut’s gonna skin us alive.”

“Out of the dirty, filthy, dusty vents.”

Grif has a feeling Simmons isn’t going to be in the mood any longer for the rest of the day.

He’s right.

  


“Grif?” Simmons asks.

Grif is lying spread eagled on his bed, exhausted and fully clothed and covered in cat scratches and _wet_ because Simmons insisted that he had to shower. Grif does not enjoy showering. He _tolerates_ showering. He was supposed to not need to do it for two whole more days.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Thanks for helping me with Whiskers,” he says.

Grif grunts.

“And avoiding Tucker and Kai with me.”

“They are pretty gross together.”

“And for talking to Locus whenever he shows up so I don’t have to.”

“I like talking to Locus.”

“Weirdo,” Simmons says, and he sounds fond. It does not make Grif feel fluttery at all, in any way. They’re _dating,_ for god’s sake. He won’t be taken in by a meer fond tone of voice. He’s supposed to be in a bad mood.

Simmons gets into bed with him, and Grif shuffles a little to the side to make way for him.

“... Hey, Grif?”

“Yeah?”

“You seem kind of stressed.”

Grif is hit with the weird impulse to be outraged and laugh until he cries simultaneously. It results in a flawlessly deadpan expression. _“Do_ I, Simmons? Do _I_ seem a little stressed?”

“A little bit,” he says sincerely, nodding. And then, a little shyly, “Do you… want a massage? Donut showed me how. It actually works and is not just groping, believe it or not.”

Grif blinks up at the ceiling. Really, it was that easy?

“Only if you show me how to do you afterwards,” he says.

“I can live with that,” Simmons replies.

Grif can too. He imagines that it’s pretty easy to go from tenderly massaging someone to making cathartic love with them.  


End file.
